


When Paperclips Fly

by fancyf1amingozz



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Banter, Fluff, Its MacGyver fanfic, Other, Saving the World, Spy Stuff, what do you expect?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26474851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyf1amingozz/pseuds/fancyf1amingozz
Summary: Once upon a time, in a world with a few more explosions than ours, a young lady walked in on a drug deal in South America.  This ended up... well, complicated is the politest way to put it.  This is the story of that woman, and how the Phoenix Foundation becomes her new employment.The story is set in an alternate timeline where Jack is gone for about a year, and then comes back to Phoenix.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	1. Kathrine Parr, the Survivor

Once upon a time, in a world with a few more explosions than ours, there lived a man who could do anything with anything. He worked for an organization called the Phoenix Foundation. You know him, or at least you have heard his name used as a verb. MacGyver: to wildly and successfully improvise with whatever is on hand. He was a hero. And as we all know, where there are heroes there are villains. The one in our first act is a particularly nasty piece of work. 

He was a German who ran a drug cartel in South Colombia. And he was fairly successful. Until one day an actress (who wasn't even an actress) wandered into the middle of a deal because she was lost in the jungle. This caused the whole thing to go south. Eliza Gram was an American ex-army nurse who jumped at the chance to travel the world, and had joined the standby medic team for a tv show. Eliza hadn't meant to get lost, or to wander into a drug deal between an angry German and two local dictators. She definitely hadn't meant to get captured, or wind up in a hostage situation. That was a new bit for her resume. 

Never in her wildest dreams had she ever pictured even going to South America, let alone all of this. And what she went through — no one would have thought it could even possibly happen. But it did, and after a series of really horrible things, politics, explosions, murders, hire out jobs, and multiple years, the aforementioned Phoenix Foundation found her. Or rather, she found them. 

It was a bit cliché in retrospect. Phoenix had a small ground team at a party in the Monterey area. Eliza was there under her trusty alias, Katherine “Rin” Parr. The host was in possession of a lovely vase with a screw-off bottom, in which there was a thumbdrive of important biological warfare intel. The man, the myth, the legend, MacGyver was there on behalf of Phoenix to get it. So was Eliza, not on behalf of anyone.

“Riley, what can you tell me about the blonde in the black dress over there?” Mac asked as he took a sip of something fruity he had grabbed to be polite.

“You just described half the women here. Give me a detail,” Riley chirped from her perch in the van.

“Long black dress, with a red skirt spilling out of the bottom,” Mac said with a covert glance her way. She looked like she owned the place.

“Oh, the bombshell?”

“Now hold on. Matty didn't say ANYthing about bombs,” Jack cut in from his spot at the wheel.

“I’ll send you a pic so you don’t get up and trip over something,” Riley said. Mac chuckled as he planned on how to get into the office and swap out the vases.

“Day-um! Riley, who is this chick?” Jack asked when the photo came through.

“Rin Parr. It says she's the daughter of some French so-and-so, and she does hire-out security for fun. Apparently she's here watching a friend of the host.”

“That doesn't sound good. Hope it's not going to be a problem,” Mac said.

“Eh. If she stays out of our way, we can stay out of hers,” Jack eased with a casual confidence. The whole thing was easy. No surprises, just a milk-run. Well, right up until they got the thumb drive back to base and went to see what was on it. The hard drive was empty except for one PDF. All that it contained was a message that was almost a warning.

“To whom it may concern:  
Please know that the weapon in question is contained. The less you know about this, the better. It will not fall into anyone's hands, I promise. Please don't get involved, the situation is under control, and the fewer cooks in the kitchen, the better. XX K” 

Team Improv shared a glance. 

“I've got questions, concerns, and comments,” Bozer said for all of them.


	2. When in Panama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliza and Team improv meet up in Panama. Naturally, because you just can't have that much Bad-assery in one place, things don't go as planned. Honestly when do they ever?

Phoenix was good at finding people. It's what they did. But, Uncle Sam didn’t see why they should worry or look for Eliza, so anything involving her was strictly “recreational research” and exclusively under the table. Missions came and went, and Eliza’s stunt at the party was dead on the back burner. It was quickly moved to the front after a little problem in Panama.

Eliza had the most hypocritical opinions about anywhere south of the U.S./Mexico border. The climate was fairly nice, the scenery was lush and lovely. The biodiversity made her little lab-coat clad inner nerd ecstatic. Yet, just under that rich green layer was all the nasty stuff that happened down there and all that crap she found herself caught up in on a regular basis. Uhg. And here she was. Running through the streets in the outskirts of the industrial section of Panama City, Panama.

They had almost caught her. They had come closer than most because, if she was honest, no one has been crazy enough to follow an assassin who was known and feared the whole world over. Much less crazy enough to try bringing her in and not killing her. And she wasn’t even going to try to figure out right now how they had escaped the room she trapped them in.

They were clever, for American government agents. She had needed to work harder than she had in a long time to get the bio-weapon data before they did. Actually, the challenge was somewhat pleasant, despite the fact that she was still running from the two of them. She was outnumbered — not that that had ever mattered before — and these two, whom she called Blond and Tex even though she knew their names were MacGyver and Dalton, operated like a dream team. They knew each other’s moves before they were made, and watched each other’s backs constantly. Sometimes, Eliza got tired of always watching her own back. But she was too busy running to think any further on it. 

There were men guarding the warehouse. She barreled in past them before they could even react. Her pursuers ran full force into them. Obviously, they were not on the same team, since a fight broke out rapidly between the lot.

Eliza ran until she almost collided with a ladder, and after checking what she fondly referred to as her Batgrapple on her belt, she scrambled up the ladder to the catwalk-like rafters. Where she came face-to-face with Blond, the young man she had tricked at the party. MacGyver. She drew her gun quickly, expecting him to do the same. He didn’t.

—————

Mac, for all the running he did on a regular basis, couldn’t help but grimace at a painful stitch in his side. He and Jack were chasing down one Katherine Parr, the woman who had stolen information on a dangerous bioweapon right from under their noses. The note she had left said it was in good hands and not to get involved, but the pair of them had their orders. Apprehend Parr, alive, so she could hand over the data.

Unfortunately, she was making that task much more difficult than it sounded. She tricked them — which Mac was still kicking himself over — and locked him and Jack up. Escaping cost them precious minutes, minutes that could make all their chasing worthless.

But they located her again quickly, and followed as she ran right into a warehouse with unnecessarily high security. She slipped past the toughs outside the door, but he and Jack weren’t so lucky. And with four opponents — crap, make that five — and only two of them, this was gonna give Parr even more time to get away.

Mac wondered vaguely as he knocked out one of the goons whether she had planned this whole goose-chase out. His wondering was cut short by a jab to the ribs, winding him. 

“Get out of here, Mac, go get her. I’ve — got — these three!” Jack grunted between blows and blocks.

Mac, fully trusting Jack’s hand-to-hand combat combat skills, booked it after Parr (though not without getting in one more punch of his own). He saw her climbing a long ladder to the rafters.

He scanned around for a faster way up. The warehouse was under construction. Light streamed in from holes in the ceiling. Dim, given the near-twilight hour, but enough to see by. And there it was, his way up: a counter-weighted pulley, used to bring heavy building materials up to the rafters. He kicked aside the sandbags stabilizing the mechanism, and jumped to grab it as it shot skyward.

It was only as he looked down that he realised how very high up he was going, and how very irritating it was that he, a highly-trained government agent, was afraid of heights. But his mission was far more important than his own comfort, so he scrunched his face up, swallowed hard, and stepped off the pulley onto the rafters. He only had a few seconds before Parr reached him, and he used that time to catalogue his surroundings.

The rafters were high up. Very high above a hard concrete floor. No, no, not thinking about that. All construction materials had been taken off the rafters for the night, leaving him nothing but the structure itself to work with. Several crisscrossing metal beams made a thin catwalk that made Mac’s heart thunder in his throat just looking at it. Focus, MacGyver. He could hear Jack still struggling against the guards. Two of them left, now.

And suddenly, there was no more time for thinking. Parr had reached the rafters. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and she immediately leveled a gun at him.

Her blue eyes narrowed as she shifted her target from right between his eyes to his chest. But both she and Mac were surprised out of their standoff by one of the goons calling out “They’re in the rafters!”

Mac looked down at the doorway, hoping Parr wouldn’t shoot him for at least another three seconds. He saw the crumpled bodies of four of the men who had attacked him and Jack. The fifth man was the one who yelled, and he was waving his gun around trying to get a clear shot at Mac and Parr. And he saw Jack too. Unmoving on the ground, gun knocked out of his hand.

“Jack!” he called without thinking.

The dizziness Mac was pushing away caused by the height hit him full force, coupled with fear for his partner. He heard the man below yelling still: “I see them, they’re up there, shoot them down!” Mac had no idea who he was talking to, and that snapped his attention back to Parr, forcing him to shove down his growing panic. 

—————

Eliza's surprise at the guards' calls was still evident on her face, but she shook it off and returned her focus to the blond man who had her trapped here, and the gun she was pointing at him. He seemed oddly jumpy. Perhaps it could be chalked up to the fact that his partner was still down. Eliza was sorry, truly, but she also knew that, for the moment, she had one fewer tail to deal with.

But this third party of armed guards, where did they come from? And who were they working for? Eliza didn’t know, but she saw one across the catwalk leveling a sniper rifle at her and her persistent pursuer. Keeping half an eye on the blond, she scanned for other hostiles. None — just the sniper and his loud friend on the floor.

In less than two seconds, she changed her aim from MacGyver to the sniper — shooting him dead — and then the man on the floor. Both threats were hastily eliminated. That only left—

The blond had apparently been startled by her gunshots, because he slipped and fell from the narrow catwalk with a gasp. The concrete floor was a long way down, and Eliza knew he wouldn’t survive the fall.

A momentary hesitation — really only a fraction of a second — led her to think that perhaps this was for the best. The tails on her would both be out of commission. She could go on her merry way, without being followed or chased.

But Eliza was not a monster. She never had been, despite her engineering and training. And the terror in the young man’s eyes as he fell snapped Eliza out of her thoughts. In an instant, she had grabbed and fired her “batgrapple” — just a simple grapple-gun attached to a length of strong cord. It caught on the rafters, and Eliza swung to catch the falling man.

They landed — not as gently as Eliza would have liked. Her rescued pursuer seemed to be in a daze, but he was breathing. Considering her work finished, Eliza grappled back up to the rafters, and clambered up through the hole in the unfinished roof.

—————

Already on the verge of panicking from both the high place he was standing and Jack’s lack of movement, the report of Parr's gun startled Mac badly. So badly that his feet slipped, and suddenly he was falling.

Mac felt his brain shut off as panic consumed him completely. His senses were still working however, and afterward, all the images and feelings came back to him.

He couldn’t close his eyes, or breathe properly. He saw grey concrete and rusty red rafters. He heard a strange, pressurised hissing and a clang — though how he heard anything over the ringing in his ears was beyond him. He felt himself caught by a strong pair of arms, and felt his descent slowed. The air was knocked out of him when he hit the concrete, but before it was, he could smell gunpowder and a floral shampoo.

He saw Parr get up, felt cool fingers on the side of his face for a moment, and saw her zip upward. He watched as she vanished into the twilight.

Mac tasted blood in his mouth, and that began to bring him back to himself. He rolled onto his side and spat it onto the floor. He must’ve bitten his tongue. The cool ground beneath him also helped to ground him, and he slowed his breathing. And it was at that moment, he heard soft stirrings and very loud curses.

Jack.

Mac needed to shake himself out of the remnants of the panic attack and go to Jack. His brain still wasn’t fully processing what happened — it was all a blur of sensation and images. But Jack, he remembered, had been hurt. Jack needed him. And that was the push Mac needed to stagger to his feet.

He walked as quickly as he could toward the doorway Jack had been knocked out by. Mac’s entire body hurt — the landing had not been soft.

But there was Jack, sitting up and holding his head with a grimace and several words that would make Matty yell at him if they were on comms. Mac helped him to his feet.

“You sure scared me, hoss. Last thing I saw was you zoomin’ right up into those rafters after Parr, with no backup. It’s a miracle she didn’t kill you. Where is she?”

Mac frowned. First of all, Mac had scared him, when all the time Mac had been terrified by Jack’s motionless body? Ludicrous. And second, why hadn’t Parr killed him? She easily could have, even before he fell. But not only did she not shoot him, she caught him… somehow. 

“I’m not sure,” he answered slowly. “She got away after taking down the snipers.” Snipers she had stopped from killing Mac.

“Damn. She ain’t making this thing easy for us, is she?”

Mac nodded absently. “She saved my life…”

Jack, confused, stopped pacing. “You sure, Mac?” He put his hand on Mac’s shoulder. “This is Rin Parr we’re talking about. You know, infamous assassin and the possessor of a file on dangerous biological weaponry.”

“Yeah, Jack,” Mac sighed. “I know. But I’m sure.” He had no idea why, but Parr had saved his life. Left with more questions than answers, Mac followed Jack out of the building, with one last look toward the hole in the roof where she had disappeared.

Prior to this latest encounter, the team had collectively done some homework on this Rin Parr lady. The second thing they did when they got back was compile it and start her an official file.   
What they found was mostly what they expected. Rin Parr, or rather Katherine Parr, was not someone to be messed with. Everyone who was anyone was afraid of her. Even Matty, which was something. The team was wondering when they would see her next. She was practically a ghost, who only showed herself when she wanted. So why had they run into her twice? The only potential answer was that they were after the same people. The questions now were who was she working for, and what did that mean for them?  
Matty ordered them to bring her in if they ran into her again. Mac and Jack thought that was a bad idea. Jack thought they should ask this Parr person nicely to butt out and let them handle things. Mac, well. Mac wanted to chat with her. After the warehouse incident, he went back and looked through their op records to see if there had been any other crossovers. Turns out, she was watching their backs a lot. There were many times when she had given them the advantage. She was an expert in getting things to all align for mutual benefit. Mac was very wary about meeting her again, but also very curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp. Here is Chapter Two.
> 
> Huge Kudos, thank you, shout out, and flower bouquet to holbytlanna my dear and favorite keeper of braincells and editor in chief. She is the reason this fic happened at all. I am responsible for the first two and last paragraph, the rest is her brainchild.
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? Shoot em' my way.
> 
> xx-Fancy


	3. When what happened in Panama ends up in San Diego...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Panama was a messy case that led to Team Improv uncovering a drug organisation being run out of La Jolla. They have everything they need except a few key details and a lady. Cue Mac going undercover at a club to find them.

Mac was in the corner, resting against the wall of the club and blending in like a regular. Black leather jacket paired with ridiculous leather pants, purple shirt and eyeliner. He hated it. It was so not his style at all, but somehow he pulled it off.

Blending in like a local had worked well for the first bit of the op. They had everyone they wanted in various vans and stages of custody. Well, almost everyone. And the lady he still needed to talk to was walking right over to him. 

Her reddish hair swayed as she confidently stalked over to him with the rhythm of “My Oh My”. Well, hello. Mac shifted a bit so he was standing squarely on his feet. She sashayed her hips to the rhythm as she grabbed him gently by the lapels of his jacket. 

“Dance with me,” she said, batting her eyes and leaning in, teasing him. “ _I swear on my life that I’ve been a good girl_ ,” she sang along with the song. “.” The lady swished her hair over her shoulder as she tried to pull him onto the dance floor. Mac shook his head and moved his hands to her shoulders with the intention of pushing her off. Yes, he needed to “interrogate” her. And yes, she wasn’t unattractive, quite the opposite in fact. But he was on the job. 

“Let's take this somewhere else,” he said leaning in so she could hear him over the noise. She bit her lip and looked up at him with wide, playful eyes as she nodded. Mac grabbed her hand and led her out of the club.

When they got outside he turned to her and noticed a total change in her demeanor. Mac took a breath to say something, but she rudely cut him off. “Look. You’re only here for one thing, and so am I.” Mac raised an eyebrow and gave her a very skeptical look. She squared her shoulders and stood up straight, looking him dead in the eye. 

“I don't think we want the same thing,” he began cautiously.

“Oh, I think we do,” she purred. Mac was surprised at how her confidence was affecting him. 

“Wanna bet?” Mac said in a cocky tone, stepping up to her with a _Come-at-Me demeanor_.  
She nodded and pursed her lips, “Information on the La Jolla case. And, well…” she trailed off, dragging her gaze up over him, licking her lips slightly. Subconsciously (and blaming the shot of whatever he had ordered earlier to blend in), Mac did the same to her. This is going to be fun.

“Tell you what,” he said, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around her waist, “If you tell me everything I want to know, we could work out something… mutually beneficial.” Mac couldn’t deny the fact that there was mutual attraction (okay, maybe he had had more than one shot. Three tops).

She nodded and flashed a sweet smile. “I like that plan. Where's our ride?” Mac smirked, keeping up his attitude and leading the way to his jeep. His mystery woman kept up well with him considering her short skirt, tall heels combo.

\---------------

Mac ran through the mini interrogation as soon as they got back to his room. Introductions to start, and then questions on top of questions. Her name was Angel Gram, and she knew about as much as he had expected her to. The La Jolla case had been run through its paces, and so far, it had been pretty basic, all snags included. It felt nice to do the simple part of his job for once. Angel’s information lined up perfectly with everything they already had, so the shop talk was quick and clean.

“Anything else?” Angel asked.

“Yeah. One more thing,” Mac said, moving them both closer to the bed. “Help me get these damn pants off.”

“But I like the pants,” Angel giggled as she pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed and straddled him.

“You’ll like ‘em a lot more when they are on the floor,” Mac said between their first kisses. 

“I hope so, Mac.” They didn't stop paying attention to each other as clothes came off. 

Angel straddled Mac as he rolled onto his back. She slid her hands down his sides as she trailed kisses down to those fantastically problematic pants. 

“Think you can get those off?” Mac asked, panting slightly. Angel smirked with a twinkle in her eye as she undid them. 

“Eh. I’m good with my hands.” Mac’s chuckle turned into a groan of relief as she shimmied them off of him. Angel grinned wickedly as she tossed them aside, and lightly ran her hands over his shoulders as she sat firmly on his thigh and subtly rocked her hips just enough to start to drive him crazy. Mac growled slightly as he flipped them so he was hovering over her, lightly pinning her wrists above her head. 

“You. Need. To. Behave,” he said between the kisses he placed practically everywhere except her mouth. 

“No.” Mac immediately froze and looked at her. “I’m not behaving tonight. I’m done being a good girl.” Mac’s eyes softened. He knew that tone. _Who hurt you?_ His unasked question hung between them. 

“I’m not asking you to be good.” He rained gentle kisses on her. “Let me be good to you,” Mac said in a voice like velvet.

Angel looked at him, _Why?_ written all over her face.

“Please.” That was all it took to convince her to let him in. With that, she slipped out of Mac’s grip, buried her hands in his hair and kissed him. For the first time in a long time, Mac stopped thinking, and just did. He could feel that Angel needed this. Hell, he needed this. So he let go. He let himself pour out his emotions. Let himself relax with her and just follow his instincts. Angel followed suit, and soon they were both lying in each other’s arms, hair completely askew, panting slightly, and the hotel comforter pooled past their knees. 

“Will you stay?” Mac asked softly.

“As long as I’m welcome,” Angel responded. Mac pulled her closer and kissed her temple. 

“You missed,” she said playfully. Mac looked at her, ensnared by that twinkle in her gunmetal blue eyes.

“I did, didn’t I?” He kissed her properly and they found themselves falling all over again.  
\-------------------

The smell of coffee was the first thing Mac noticed. The second was the cold spot on the bed.  
“‘Morning, handsome.” Mac rolled onto his side towards the low, demure voice on his left. He squinted and rubbed his eyes to better see the lady silhouetted in the light coming through the sheer hotel curtain. 

“Hey Angel,” he said, left-over sleep accentuating the Texas drawl he had accidentally picked up from Jack.

“How do you like your coffee?” Angel asked, getting up from the chair by the balcony.

“Black, two sugars.” Mac rolled back over after seeing that it was barely seven. 

“Do you need an advil or makeup remover?” Angel asked as she perched on the bed, coffee in hand. Mac sat up and murmured “thanks” as he took the coffee and missed her question entirely. Angel was trying not to laugh at his fantastic smokey-eye look. 

“Why are you spoiling me?” he teased.

“You’re a gentleman. You’ve earned it.” she said with a shrug. “Also I have mad respect for a man who can pull off leather pants and make guyliner look sexy.” Mac choked on his coffee. He had completely forgotten about the eyeliner. He looked at his hands and saw black smudges on his fingertips. 

“You wouldn’t know how to get this off, would you?” He asked in a borderline exasperated tone. 

“If I could pull those pants off, I think I can find you a makeup wipe.” Mac mentally rolled his eyes. Of course you use a makeup wipe to get rid of makeup. 

“Ah, so that's what those are for. Usually I use them as fire starters,” Mac said, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Good to know?” Angel questioned with a confused laugh as she drank some of her own coffee.

“How did you manage to make this drinkable?” Mac asked after a moment. Angel cocked her head at him. “I’ve had hotel coffee on every continent, and that cheap coffee machine shouldn’t make instant coffee this good.

“Well, I am a bit of a coffee queen,” she laughed. “I have worked with three major coffee shop chains, and I always carry my own coffee.” 

They spent the next hour or so stalling with small talk, partially because they genuinely enjoyed each other's company, mostly because Mac didn’t want to put those damn pants back on. Finally, Mac had to go and give the interrogation results to Matty. He looked at the pants and frowned. 

“I don’t want to put them back on,” Mac -- who had forgotten that they were in his hotel room -- whined aloud to himself. Angel looked over at the closet with his suitcase in it. Rolling her eyes she hopped off the bed, grabbed a pair of neatly folded khakis, and lobbed them at him without so much as a complementary “think fast”. Mac saw the pants in his peripherals, and caught them with his face. “Where the he--” he cut himself off as he saw her standing next to his suitcase.

“I might be able to help with that too, seeing as how we are in your room after all,” Angel managed to say through her shit-eating grin.

\---------------

“Angel” walked out of the hotel looking like a completely different woman. How she had managed to keep one of Mac’s versatile button downs was beyond her. She had snagged the blue one and put it on to tease him while he was getting ready. Instead of being even mildly fussed, Mac had stopped, stared, and told her to keep it. Said it “brought out the gunmetal blue in her eyes”. Whatever the heck that was supposed to mean. Kind of a fitting description though, she thought as she walked down the street to find some food. It had been a long time since she had trusted someone like that. Mac didn’t know how lucky he was that he had seen the “real” her. Well, someone a hell of a lot closer to the real her then she had shown someone in a long time.  
“Angel'' couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen him before though. Turning the corner, she settled on a small cafe. Halfway through her breakfast, it clicked. Rafter boy. MacGyver. The one where she learned that it was possible for her to break someone's knee. “Angel'' felt the food in her stomach churn and guilt laden memories surfaced. Taking a deep breath, she shook her head, clearing it of the memories of the alley she had pulled him into after that particularly messy op. Dear God, please don’t let him find out, she prayed, turning her eyes to the sky. Well, technically I made it up to him, she countered her own guilt remembering how she had swooped in to save the day during her recent Panama kerfuffle. Sighing to herself she made a note on a napkin to look him up when she got back to the motel room she was currently calling home. Meeting the same guy twice under such specific circumstances raised at least four red flags in her book. It didn’t help that his name was “MacGyver.” That name had a hefty rep in this business.

With all of Angel's information, what had turned into the La Jolla case was closed and the drug runners locked up. Later that night, the team gathered around Mac’s fire pit and recounted all the crazy that had started in Panama, and finally ended in San Diego. Of course, they all wanted to know how Mac’s undercover night went. Fortunately, Mac was none the wiser that the woman he had hooked up with was the woman who had pistol-whipped him into temporary blindness, and also saved him from falling to his death. He was busy trying to fend off questions from Bozer about his “potential next girlfriend” and simultaneously convincing Jack that he didn’t need to find her and give her The Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was going to be a stand alone based off of the song My Oh My by Camilla Cabillo, but my muses said otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! SO this is just something I've been working on for funsies, and there may be more on the way. 
> 
> Stay tuned, and feel free to leave questions, comments, and/concerns.
> 
> xx- Fancy


End file.
